2007 is over, and 2008 smells like recession. This should be fun. I remember the Reagan recession. "Why is this old man wearing makeup and lying to me?" It's true: the man wore a lot of rouge. There's now a generation for whom Reagan is only a wheezy voice tired impressionists try to mimic on late night cable. A reputation constructed to have world historic importance has vanished like so much flash paper. Interesting.
2008 smells like recession, and Manhattan smells like unoccupied condos. Sadly, I don't know of any way to make money from this guess. Everyone is hunkering down, the animal spirits are churlish, and the Zeitgeist is checking its watch, like in Klute.
The only liquor store in Manhattan I've found which sells Korbel brandy was closed New Year's Day. I blame gentrification.
The books of 2007 lacked luster in general. I read things that scratched my itch, but I was mostly filling in gaps -- there are gaps -- and overhang from 2006. I'm assuming this is a gestational pause, but I do try to keep my finger on the cultural pulse of things, and I'm not seeing the smart small group competition which generates cool stuff.
Here's an exception: the movie Juno, which was made on the strength of its script. I used to link to its writer, Diablo Cody. I wish I could say I had followed her blog since she was pretending to be a Russian secretary, but no, it was while she was making hilarious comments about working in Minneapolis peep shows. Somehow, the bizarre Zhdanovite 'culture warriors' of the American right have adopted her movie as a validation of their lifestyle, which is also hilarious.
Tomorrow: my election endorsements!